


Incarnadine

by orphan_account



Series: Red [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 16-Year-Old Harry Potter, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry Potter, Bottoming from the Top, Clothed Sex, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Desk Sex, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Identity Issues, M/M, Masochism, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poor Draco, Semi-Clothed Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Top Voldemort (Harry Potter), Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Wearing a Mask, brief voyeurism, everyone is bi, magical lube, versatile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 16:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16222850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Wanting to pretend he's someone else, Harry follows an unknowing Malfoy home for winter break, where the death eaters are throwing a party for the season and the new recruits. A costume party where everyone is wearing a mask. Harry decides to hide in plain sight, pretending to be one of the new recruits. It gets a bit overwhelming, and Harry is a bit drunk, and in trying to find a place to hide away from the other people he ends up alone in a room with Voldemort. Who doesn't realize he's Harry Potter, and Harry isn't about to correct him. Smut ensues.Inspired by:This Snarry Photo





	Incarnadine

_**Incarnadine** _

_**Honey Latte** _

* * *

Harry doesn't want to stay at Hogwarts for the winter holidays. It's just too much right now, with his godfather's death still raw, and Dumbledore pushing his lessons on Harry. He understands their importance, of course he does, but Harry longs to be able to be a different person. It's why, when he hears Malfoy talking to a seventh year about his Yule Ball, a costume masquerade with a bunch of new death eater recruits, Harry decides to follow Malfoy to the portkey he takes home under his invisibility cloak. 

For the chance to be seen as someone other than Harry Potter.

The Malfoy manor is beautiful, decked out in holly wreaths and silver bells. Harry has to be careful in his explorations so that he can stay hidden. He comes across a room, Draco's he would bet his life on it, and Harry rummages through his drawers. There is a set of dress robes crumpled up in the back of his dresser, caught behind the dresser tracks. They are black as ink, the collar lined with golden embroidery, the edges of the sleeves and the bottom hemmed in three inches of deep dark red like blood. The robes are better suited for a dark lord, he's seen Voldemort in a similar style of robes. They've obviously been crumpled up and forgotten for some time, so Harry spells the wrinkles from them, and dresses in the silk robes, depositing his own clothes in a bundle in a potted plant transfigured as a large rock, and he borrows some styling products from the boy. It doesn't tale nearly as long as normal to get his riotous curls tamed, the long locks falling strait and neatly around his face, brushing his shoulders. Harry has contacts in, he'd bought them over the summer but he never wears them, and they are charmed right now, so that his eyes are not their familiar bright absinthe green, but a darker and bluer shade like polished malachite.

Unrecognizable, the boy who lived calmly exits the hall, joining the many other recruits in the room. Many are gathered around a table, and Harry looks at the masks on the table with glee. It's too easy. There are about two dozen of them, obviously for the recruits, in an array of different colors. Green, red, gold, silver. Christmas colors, or rather yule he supposes. Harry approaches the far end of the table where a mask sits, a shade of red darker than the rest. It is a Venetian half-mask, only meant to cover the upper portion of his face, with beautiful golden designs etched into the silk surface with actual gold. It matches the shade of red on the stolen robes perfectly.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Harry looks up startled, coming face to face with Draco. The boy doesn't seem to recognize him at all, or the borrowed robes for that matter, but Harry deepens his voice a few octaves just in case.

"It is." He answers. "Are these free, or do I buy it?"

Draco looks surprised. "Huh." He shrugs. "Free, but I don't think anyone thought to make you guys pay for them to tell the truth."

Harry smiles. "Well, I'm the first to need one, so if you'd like me to pay I do have that ability."

Draco looks contemplative. "No, but thanks for the offer. You can have it free for giving me the idea to charge the other recruits.

Harry laughs. "Alright. Thank you."

The blonde boy sticks out his hand as Harry fastens the ribbons behind his head. "Draco Malfoy, at your service." Harry shakes his hand, knowing he needs to lie, and fast.

"Snow." He manages to say as his eyes glance at the snowflakes falling from the ceiling, not his best work. "Radley Snow." At least his false first name is better, having taken it from the book _To Kill a Mocking Bird_ which he was reading with Luna for her book club. Book club suggested there were more than the two of them, but Harry had never seen or met anyone else. "You can call me Red if you'd like."

"Half-blood?" its not a question, for all that it sounds like one.

He shrugs. "Squib father, half blood mother." He responds, as if trying to defend himself, trying to say he's not completely half-blood. He could care less in reality, but he's trying to pretend to be a death eater.

Draco nods. "Well mate, as it seems you are the only other seriously attractive person at this party aside from myself, allow me to escort you to the ballroom." He says. "And don't bother saying no. I'm a death eater, and I will definitely pull rank."

Harry nearly crows. He fucking knew it. Instead, he takes the offered arm. "I'd be delighted."

As they wander away Draco motions to his robes. "You know, I have a pair just like those." he says with a laugh that suggests he only thinks their robes are a match. "My father got them for the yule ball my school threw a couple years ago because he was being funny. I keep them in the back of my dresser where they have been sitting since I bought them. They're probably wrinkly as hell."

Harry just laughs. "I was gifted them by an aquaintence." he lies.

\--

Draco loses Harry in the crowds not long after they arrive, and Harry spends more time than he should dancing with strangers, generally having a good time, and drinking far too many glasses of red wine from the table. It's wonderful. The wine makes him buzzed, warm and fuzzy and relaxed. Too relaxed. Harry excuses himself for some fresh air, knowing he must clear his mind before he does something stupid. He exits the doors, the noise of the party coming in muted as the doors shut. He wanders down the hall back towards Draco's room, but the hall is unfamiliar. Harry shakes his head. He's far too drunk if he can not remember a hallway. He counts doors, pretty sure his was five down on the left, and he opens the door.

It isn't Draco's room. "Sorry." Harry bows. "I must be a little lost ." Then remembering he is supposed to be a death eater he adds a quick lord to the end, stopping just in time so he doesn't say Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort waves a hand, beckoning him forward. There is no cruelty in his body language or expression, just cold professionalism. "This is the east wing." He states. "It was already told to all of my recruits that the east wing is off limits. Explain then, why you are here."

Harry thinks fast, ducking his head. "I had a bit much to drink." He claims, it isn't untrue. "I'm looking for the privy."

Voldemort gestures to a door to his right. "You may use mine. Be quick about it."

Harry bows low again. "Thank you lord." He says, then he escapes to the bathroom.

He takes care of business, having actually needed to go, and then he runs some water, removing his mask to splash cold water on his face. He flushes the toilet and dries his face and hands, making sure the mask is securely in place before he leaves. When he gets out Voldemort is standing. He says one world, just one.

"Kneel."

Harry's logical brain tells him not to, but if he were a death eater, and Voldemort was his lord, wouldn't he do anything to please him? Even this. He's not an unattractive man, terrifying, but not ugly. In another life, if he were a death eater, he'd already be one his knees, ready to receive his dark lord's favor. Isn't this what he wanted, to be someone other than himself. He isn't Harry Potter right now. He is a death eater. So, like a good death eater he steps forward, then falls to his knees, looking up shyly from below his eyelashes, even as his fingers reach up to brush his belt. He doesn't have to fake his look of appreciation and lust, not at the sight of his enemy towering so powerfully over him. The dark lord sucks in a breath, more shock than arousal, and Harry realizes his mistake even as he simultaneously realizes how fucked it is to find Voldemort in anyway arousing. He meant, kneel for your master, not kneel and let me have your mouth. Harry jerks back his fingers as if burned, and he quickly adjusts himself into a one-knee kneeling bow, his head bowed low.

"I'm sorry lord." He stammers, contrite, terrified. "I misunderstood your meaning."

There are cold fingers under his chin, gripping tight and forcing his head up. "What is your name, boy?" Voldemort asks.

Harry gulps. "Snow sir." When Voldemort doesn't immediately tell him he never recruited anyone with that name he takes the risk. "But seeing as I just propositioned you, you can call me whatever if you'd like, lord."

"Snow." Voldemort hisses out in parseltongue, and Harry forces himself to look confused. In English he says, "You're very bold."

"Gryffindor, my lord." he says, then realizes his mistake. He's not supposed to be a student.

Voldemort doesn't seem to recognize him, not even after he claims to be a lion, and nor does he have anything to say about a student being a recruit. Harry lets himself relax a little. "Tell me, when you fell to your knees just now, was it only because I asked you to as your lord, or was there another reason you were so eager?"

There is no mistaking the lust in the soft tones of his voice. Harry decides he needs to be bold again. "I find you attractive, lord." He responds. "But, while you wouldn't be wrong to assume I'd fallen to my knees because you're powerful and I hoped to gain favor, I admit I'm drawn to you for other reasons than your power. I confess my thoughts haven't always been pure in regards to you."

He chuckles. "Stand." Harry does. "Tell me, what would you do if I told you that you may have my favor."

Harry shivers at the words, the permission. "I'd probably be so bold as to ask you to kiss me."

"Have you been with others before?" Voldemort runs his fingers higher on his face, a caress, and he brings a hand to the back of his hair. This is a horrible idea, but at the same point he can not force himself away.

"I've a girlfriend at school lord." He says softly. It's true. Ginny would never forgive him for this, but Harry doesn't even care right now. "I've never been with a man before, but I've researched it. Curiosity."

Voldemort shudders, a good kind of shudder. "Kneel."

This time he doesn't need to guess at the meaning, and he sinks back down the rest of the way to his knees with a resounding thud. His fingers make deft work of the belt and zipper, the belt clatters to the ground as Harry pulls his pants low enough to take out his cock. It is snow white like the rest of his skin, the tip a pale purple red color, longer and thicker than his own. Harry glances up, shy once more, then licks his penis from the base to the tip, lightly bringing it into his mouth. Voldemort makes a noise above him, and his fingers tighten in Harry's hair. Encouraged, Harry continues his licks and strokes, taking the man deeper into his mouth with each time, until he's taking his whole cock in his mouth. Voldemort fucks his mouth, slow but insistent, as if trying not to make Harry uncomfortable, but unable to help himself from taking the offered pleasure of Harry's mouth. His own cock hardens as he does, and he wants to touch himself, but Voldemort hasn't given him permission. The teen pulls off, enticing a displeased hissed command for him to continue, but Harry, who isn't supposed to know parseltongue, ignores his command and bites his hip bone, sucking a bruise into his skin, then looks up at the dark lord cheekily. He expects to be punished for his insolence, for daring to mark the dark lord, but his eyes are dark with lust. He keeps eye contact, leaning to press a kiss to the skin of the opposite hip bone, and the shudder the older man gives is enough permission for Harry to leave an identical mark there. He's pulled up by his hair, the dark lord yanking Harry's hair so that he's forced to look up at him.

"Insolent." The dark lord pants, then pulls him in for a bruising kiss. Harry wonders if he can taste his own precum on his forked tongue. "I could kill you for marking me."

"Will you though, my lord?" Harry breathes. He's far too turned on by the half-hearted death threat for it to be healthy. "Only fair, seeing as you'll mark me later tonight." He's referencing the ceremony to take place at the end of tonight party, where Voldemort will bestow the mark on his recruits.

He wonders for a moment if he's pushed his own boundaries too far, but then the dark lord shakes his head. The dark lord licks his lips and Harry's eyes chase the movement of his tongue. Voldemort leans back as if to catch his breath, then he kisses him again. Voldemort kisses him like a lover, passionate and all consuming, and it makes Harry's toes curl even as he is backed up to the desk in the study. The kiss breaks as Harry is lifted onto the desk, the movement knocking over several books, a stack of papers, and an ink well to the floor. He doesn't apologize like he knows he should, and Harry pulls his head down, nails biting into the cold smooth flesh. The kiss he leads the dark lord in is hard, unrelenting, and bruising, the same way he'd been being kissed earlier. The dark lord shudders into the kiss, and Harry gleans a new understanding of the man. His wine red eyes are near black with lust, and Harry sucks a mark into his throat as the dark lord gasps, no inhibitions, even with his door wide open for his followers to see if one were to walk by.

Voldemort pulls his robes open, yanking them down and around his arms. His arms get trapped in the fabric, but judging by how his eyes darken impossibly more Harry thinks this was no accident. The dark lord trails bites and kisses across his chest, a trail of marks from his jaw to the edges of his pants, but he doesn't take Harry out of his slacks, even as he squirms and moans desperate for some touch.

"Please." he gasps. "Please my lord."

The dark lord chuckles. "So eager."

He pulls Harry off the desk to pull down his pants, and they pool around his knees. Harry steps out of them, careful not to damage them with his borrowed shoes, and he readjusts his robes so that his arms are no longer entrapped. He pushes the dark lord onto the desk, crawling into his lap as the dark lord makes a surprised but not unwilling noise. With Harry in his lap the dark lord shuffles backwards on the desk, knocking more stuff off the top. He makes a frustrated noise and with a sweep of his arm the rest of the desk has been cleared off. Voldemort grips his hair, pulling his head down for a kiss. Harry can feel his cock, hard and ready for him against his butt. He positions the dark lord, ready and eager to take him.

"Stop." Harry stills, pulling back with a worried expression. "Unless you want this to hurt a lot more than it needs to, you need to be a lot more patient. Or at the very least hold on so that I can cast a spell if you're that eager."

Harry laughs against his lips. "Sorry my lord." He says. "I got excited."

Voldemort bites him, where his neck meets his shoulder, sucking a large mark into his skin. Harry shudders. Voldemort  shuffles them forward enough to open his top drawer, rummages for a second, then curses. He takes out his wand. "I don't have anything we could use as lube." he informs, then he waves his wand and says something in a language Harry doesn't know.

Harry feels a slickness and stretching, and he squirms uncomfortably as the dark lord abandons his wand to the mess on the floor. The dark lord repositions himself, and Harry lowers himself, inch by inch, taking the dark lord's large cock inside him. It's not unpleasant, but it doesn't hurt a little bit. Harry shudders and makes a small pained moan in his lap, trying to get used to him. The dark lord is panting beneath him, hands gripped tight around his hips as if afraid if he lets go Harry will leave. Harry stares at him from behind his mask and slowly starts to move, circling his hips at first, then slowly moving up and down until it no longer hurts. Voldemort makes small needy noises beneath him as he moves, looking like he has to physically restrain himself from taking over, going faster and harder. Harry nods encouragingly.

"More." He pants. "I won't break, my lord."

Voldemort wraps an arm around his waist, another around his shoulders, and he traps Harry in an open legged kneel as he thrusts hard and unrelenting. It's not painful, per say, but the bruising pace makes Harry unable to stop the high keening noises that escape him. Voldemort's cock hits a stop inside him that has Harry crying out, arching inward, his fingers digging into the skin of Voldemort's shoulders. The dark lord chuckles, a triumphant sound, and moves so that he's hitting the same spot over and over. He isn't able to stop himself from moaning, loud and uninhibited, the noises echoing in the room and mingling with the dark lord's panting and occasional moans. He chants, the words yes, and please, and my lord falling out of his mouth like worship.

Suddenly Voldemort is no longer in him, but before Harry can make a noise of protest his robes are being yanked down so they fall to the floor in a graceless pile, leaving Harry naked and exposed, a sharp contrast to himself, dressed fully aside from his cock. Voldemort spins him around, pushing him down over the desk, and Harry understands. He's more than ready when the dark lord pushes him down over the side of the desk and thrusts back into him. He leans over Harry, chest to back, his face buried in the crook of his neck. One of his hands tangles in his hair, yanking his head up as if to expose his face if one were to walk by, and the other grabs one of Harry's hands and stretches it out across the desk. Harry's own hand reaches back to touch Voldemort's smooth serpentine head, and he gasps as Voldemort thrust, deep and unrelenting, each one hitting that wonderful spot inside him. Harry feels wanton, but there is no one there but the dark lord, and even if someone were to see him they wouldn't know him with his mask. No one would see him right now, naked and moaning with the dark lord moving inside him, over him, and think him to be Harry Potter.

Little did he know that, at that second they were indeed being watched. By none other than Draco Malfoy.

\--

Draco goes to his father during the party, as the boy who'd introduced himself as Radley Snow danced gleefully with someone else. He's familiar, eerily so, and his thoughts are only made more paranoid when he realizes his dress robes are in fact missing from his dresser. "May I see the list of recruits please?" He asks. His father sees no reason to deny his son, and Draco only sinks deeper when he realizes that there is no one named Radley Snow on the list. He doesn't let his father see his unrest, smiling brightly. "Just checking. Everyone is here."

His father lets him go with a shake of his head, obviously confused by his son, but Draco hurries along down the ballroom to find the impostor, demand to know his true name, even though the more the puzzle pieces fall into place, the more he begins to dread the answer, sure he knows who he really is. If Radley Snow is Harry Potter, he's not here to drink wine an mingle. He's here to kill the Dark Lord.

He's not on the dance floor. In fact, the more he looks, the more he realizes the impostor is not in the room at all.

Draco finds a familiar face. "Pansy, did you see where Snow went?"

Pansy laughs. "You slut." She teases, getting the wrong impression. "I knew you were trying to hook up with Potter but sleeping with his doppleganger, that is a low, even for you."

Well, she's not entirely incorrect. If Radley Snow is Harry Potter Draco is very much interested, and he might even have the perfect blackmail material to make the boy-who-lived sleep with him. If Draco can get him to sleep with him, maybe he'll finally realize they are meant to be. He shoots Pansy a glare. "Don't you slut-shame me now, you whore." He hisses. "I know you slept with Lockheart in second year, and Weasley too, literally two days ago. You just think he's hot and wanna have him to yourself."

Pansy shrugs, unabashed. "Guilty." She smiles. "He went out for some fresh air, but the way he was walking I think he probably went to wank in a dark corner. You should give him a hand. Then see if he's bi, so we can share."

Draco beams and pulls his girlfriend into a kiss. "You're the best." Then he runs off in search of the boy.

He's not in the west wing, and as Draco becomes more and more sure of this fact with every room he checks, he becomes more and more paranoid. Steeling his nerves, Draco marches toward the east wing. If Harry Potter is not there, the dark lord will want to know there is an impostor. If he is, Draco may be able to rescue him, which would put him in the dark lord's favor. Maybe enough to save his parents from being prisoners in their own home.

There are loud noises coming from the dark lord's study, shouts and grunting and thudding. He hears a voice, familiar, definitely Potter's, cursing loudly. The dark lord's door is open. Draco picks up his pace. When he gets to the door he immediately throws himself back against the wall outside, hoping he wasn't seen, not entirely sure he saw what he thought he saw. Draco peeks through the crack of the door frame so he isn't seen again.

Harry Potter, and it's no use trying to pretend otherwise because Draco would bet his own life it's Potter, is leaning over the desk under the dark lord. He isn't being raped, despite what Draco might have thought, the look on his face is enough to let Draco know he's enjoying this far more than should be possible. He looks so enticing, mouth open, eyes closed, the mask still tight around his face. His pale skin is flushed pink, beaded with seat, and Draco can see his robes on the floor under the desk. Voldemort, horrifying and serpentine, has his face buried in Potter's neck, his hand in his hair, and his other stretched across the desk holding Potter's own hand. Potter's other hand is around Voldemort's head, as if to keep him in place. The dark lord pulls the boy who lived's head back, capturing his mouth in a kiss, then lets him free to lean over the desk, hands gripping the edge, as he fucks him. Potter isn't quiet, panting and moaning and speaking as he is taken.

"Please my lord." He keens. "More."

Voldemort obliges. He says something parseltongue. It must be something dirty, because Potter moans filthily, and Voldemort picks up the pace. He lifts Harry up so that he's standing in front of him as he fucks him, as if putting him on display. "You're mine." He says.

"Yes." Potter moans. "Yes!"

It is as if he is speaking to Draco, telling him that he can never have him. Draco isn't sure how one can be hard when their heart is breaking, because he knows he'll never be able to have Harry Potter if he's the dark lord's lover, but damn if they don't present an alluring picture. Suddenly, Draco realizes how big this is. Either the dark lord isn't actually aware that he's fucking Potter, or Potter is not nearly as light as he'd been thinking. He called the dark lord _my lord._

He hears it when Potter comes more than he sees it. He cries out loud and abandoned, wrecked, and then he slumps down over the desk, boneless. Voldemort continues to fuck him a bit longer, before he stills and moans in a way that suggests he is done. Draco leaves, fast as he can, not wanting to be caught by the lovers.

Pansy is waiting outside the ballroom. "I'd ask if you had fun, but that's the east wing."

Draco can't tell her the whole truth, but he can tell her a little bit. "I thought Snow might have drunkenly wandered down the wrong way." He says. "I found him with the dark lord."

"Oh poor boy." She sighs. "I wouldn't wanna be him."

"No." he shakes his head. "With him, Pansy. _With_ him."

The emphasis is enough. "Oh." She says. "Oh! You saw the dark lord fucking him?! Damn. What was that like?"

Heartbreaking. "Really fucking hot." Draco sighs. "I wanted to join. Snow is fucking hot, and whatever Voldemort was doing he was very much enjoying it."

"Maybe we should go and reenact that then." she purrs. Draco feel himself harden.

He leans in close. "Meet me in my bedroom." he says. "Wear a mask."

Pansy shivers. "Kinky." She flounces off, and Draco leans against the wall. Harry Potter may be out of his league, but at least now he knows the truth.

\--

Voldemort pulls them both down into his chair, Harry naked in his lap, both panting in the afterglow. His knees are to the side of the dark lord's legs, similar to how they'd been earlier, and Voldemort is petting his hair soothingly, as if to apologize for the rough treatment.

"My lor-Oh!" Lucius Malfoy stands in the doorway, open mouth, flushed, obviously shocked to see his lord with someone. He gets down on his knees, eyes shut, looking very contrite and embarrassed. "I apologize my lord." he says. "I didn't know you had company."

Harry is very much exposed, but he has no where to go with Voldemort's arms still wrapped around him. The dark lord speaks, in a sleepy voice. "What did you need?"

"It's time to mark the new recruits, my lord." he answers.

Voldemort groans, annoyed. "Right." He lets Harry go, and the teen crawls off his lap with shaking legs like jello. He pulls Harry in for a kiss. "You get freshened up. You can be late to the ceremony."

Malfoy looks up, surprise on his face, but Harry doesn't have more than as second to see it before he's being kissed again. Voldemort grabs his wand, waving it. The desk straitens out, and he no longer looks so obviously like he'd just got done with giving Harry the best shag of his life. He leaves with Malfoy, who looks back as if to get one last look at Harry, naked and masked and covered in love marks. Harry walks back to the shower, washing away all the evidence that he can.

He dresses back in the stolen robes long enough to go back to Draco's room, then he changes and makes his way out with the robes in a bundle under his arms, the invisibility cloak covering him. He encounters no one on his way out, everyone in the ballroom for the ceremony, and Harry finds his way to the floo easily enough. He takes it to Diagon Alley, since he knows he can not go back to Hogwarts since he signed out for the winter break.

On the desk, the only sign he'd actually ever been there, he leaves the mask.

 


End file.
